Scorched Gate
by GarnetVengeance
Summary: Nothing can help you understand a person more than seeing where they came from. May be rated a tad high, but rather that then too low. Blood, and lots of it, and mild swearing.


Opening Notes: I originally started writing this fic for my English 20 non-fiction narrative project. 2,000 word limit. Guh. Anyways, this was actually more of a 'Plan B' for me, and when I started nearing 1,800 words I decided I'd use Plan A. Which was my 'Threshold' story. I'd finished it months before the assignment was… well, assigned, so it was a nice, work-less 98. Was pleasant.

But I'd already started this one, and now I've finished! Enjoy.

* * *

To say that Ryou Bakura led a difficult, if interesting, life would be something of an understatement. For a good amount of his life, he had been juggled from school to school, not only because, more often than not, he was branded a freak for his snow-white hair and forced to leave, but, once he reached his later teenage years, those close to him fell into comas and he was forced to leave to avoid the witch-hunts. 

He did, of course, know the reason for the comas.

Destiny, fate, whatever it was - he really didn't care. _He_ had no right to do such things! To do these things to him…

He glared accusingly at the 'him' in question – a golden ring lying innocently on his bed. He let a whistling breath escape. He couldn't exactly tell anyone… what would he say? 'I'm the reincarnation of a 3,000 thief who lives in my tacky jewellery?'

He sneered – something that would usually be considered rather out of character for the normally sweet boy. It was something he was doing more and more often, now.

He sighed. He knew that Bakura, as they called him, was supposed to be the 'darkness' to his 'light', but this was ridiculous! 'After all,' he thought dryly, sliding off his bed, 'Yugi and his dark-half seem to get along just fine. No sadistic nights out on the town for them.' He picked up the ring, tracing the Eye of Horus in the center with his finger. Anyone looking at the necklace could tell it was Egyptian – it was pure gold ring with five pointers and a pyramid on the center, decorated with the eye.

The eye glowed comfortingly as a semi-transparent man appeared, lying leisurely on the bed. Between the two – had anyone besides Ryou been able to see Bakura – a casual onlooker would not be able to tell the difference. Ryou could name them on one hand. Namely, Bakura's hair was a tad on the spikier side, reminiscent of horns – though that could simply be because of Ryou's line of thought at the moment – and his eyes were a bit closer to the crimson side of the spectrum than Ryou's own chocolate brown.

"So, Sir Landlord," He said, a tad mockingly, "What shall we be getting up to tonight?"

Ryou glared at the thief, something else he seemed to be doing more and more often lately, before he shrugged and glanced away, "I dunno… I was thinking maybe staying in and getting caught up on my reading."

"Oh come now, Ryou." Bakura said, grinning wickedly, "Where's the fun in that?"

The glow of the ring intensified, nearly blinding Ryou as he threw the ring to the floor, a strangled "No!" ripped from his throat.

His body stilled, before a feral grin spread across his face, "Where's the fun, indeed?" He bent to retrieve the necklace, looping it easily around his neck. Padding softly across the room, he sifted through the draws of his host's desk, finally coming across the switchblade he kept there. His host had tried to rid him of it various times, but each time, the blade had simply returned. Or a new one. Bakura wasn't picky.

Sliding the blade into his pocket, he next went to the closet, pulling his usual black trench coat from the hanger. Next came shoes, and he was out the door, not bothering to lock it. Why bother locking the door when you left the shadows themselves to devour whoever was foolish enough to try and enter?

* * *

Ryou sighed, leaning on the cold stone of the wall in his soul room. He glared at the shadows lurking in the corners… did this mean he was becoming evil? The soul room was just that – a reflection of his innermost self. Did those shadows mean that he was destined to become as evil as Bakura? He was, after all, his reincarnation… 

He sighed again, glancing around the room. What a place to wile away the hours, knowing his other self was out there, robbing people blind? He grinned wryly, before his entire body stiffened in shock.

_A door?_

That had _NEVER_ been there before.

Could it be…? Yugi – the only other one who could understand the feeling of having two souls in his body -sometime said that he was able to venture into his other half's soul room. Could Ryou do the same?

Before he knew it, his hand was on the handle and he was tugging the heavy thing open, glancing tentatively outside, expecting something to leap out and bite his head off. Knowing his other self, he wouldn't doubt it.

Nothing.

Letting loose a breath of relief, Ryou padded softly across what he realized was a hall, separating the two rooms. Stopping at the next door, he paused a moment to stare at it. It was… misleadingly simple. A plain, wooden door adorned with solid steel supports, and the same eye that adorned the ring scorched into the wood.

Placing a tentative hand on the handle, Ryou paused. He hated Bakura, to be sure… he'd ruined his life, and - though technically it wasn't Ryou himself committing the crimes – turned him into a petty thief. He certainly couldn't tell the jury, should Bakura ever get caught, 'My other self did it.'

But did that make it okay to invade his privacy like this? This wasn't like reading some one else's mail or diary. This was his _soul._

But on the other hand…

Ryou opened the door, wincing as it creaked open.

"Well." He muttered to himself, "This was unexpected."

It was just a room. No torture chambers, no raging demons drinking the blood of innocents. Just a room, with stone walls, a few wooden doors, and a single, sputtering candle off in the corner. The walls were scorched, much as the door had been, and Ryou could hear a steady drip of water somewhere off in the distance – if there _was _a 'distance' in here.

"Well, as long as I'm here…" Ryou said, shrugging and enjoying the fact that for once he was actually talking to _himself_ and only himself. Walking to the nearest door, he grabbed the handle and tugged, frowning when he found it was stuck. Bracing himself against the wall, he grasped the handle with both hands this time, and pulled. This time, however, the door practically flew open of its own accord, causing the hapless teenager to tumble to the dank and dirty ground.

Cursing the door bitterly, he picked himself up from the ground, before cheerfully reminding himself that at least it was open. He trotted lightly to the door, peeking inside.

And nearly fell over himself as he struggled to exit, trying not to vomit from the stench.

He gave a few dry heaves, still trying not to be sick. Bakura may not have noticed him thus far, but Ryou doubted he'd be able to get away with throwing up in his soul.

'_Blood… so much… blood.'_ He thought, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, '_and that stench..." _His mouth twisted in disgust.

He turned to the next door, wondering idly to himself if he really WANTED to know what could possibly be behind it.

"Come on, Ryou." He said to himself, "You've come this far." He reached shakily for the handle, before frowning and steadying his hand. Grasping the handle, he blinked as he realized that it was rusting, and flaking against his hand. '_What's with that…?'_

He shrugged it aside, though, and with a final tug, opened the door.

* * *

At first, Ryou thought he was dying. 

His brain, however, calmly told him that he was _not_ dying, merely drowning. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see – logically, that led to the conclusion of drowning.

However, his body snapped that they weren't submerged in anything of any sort, effectively shutting the rest of Ryou up.

Taking a few heaving breathes and blinking a few times, Ryou calmed down, and took stock of the situation.

He was on his knees.

Okay. He probably collapsed from his imaginary drowning.

Sand. Sun.

So it was daytime… and he was in a desert. Egypt, most likely, considering this was an ancient Egyptian thief's soul.

And it was hot, suffocatingly so.

That explained the imagined drowning.

'_So,'_ Ryou thought, rising unsteadily to his feet, '_Are these… Bakura's memories?'_

It was then he noticed the smell. And the ruins.

And the blood. Splattered everywhere, on the ground, on the walls, and dried and flaking from the hot Egyptian sun.

Ryou staggered to his feet, wondering, for a moment, if you could get sunstroke from a flashback. The thought soon passed, though, as he stared around, pursing his lips as what little colour in his face drained from it.

Bakura – that _bastard –_ must've done this. This, Ryou assumed, was probably his first successful raid or some equally evil thing. Ryou gritted his teeth, stalking into the ruins, fully intending to throttle the thief. After all, he couldn't KILL Ryou, lest he not gain a host in the future. Or would that even work…?

Ryou shook his head, his hair falling over his eyes. At this point, seeing all this carnage – he noticed a particularly nasty-looking blood splatter as he walked past – he didn't care anymore.

"Mother…" A whimpering sob.

'_What could that be…?'_ Ryou paused, frowning. He'd always thought that Bakura left no survivors.

His steps talking on a brisker pace, he wound his way through the ruins, trying to find the source of the noise, previous purpose forgotten.

Rounding a corner, he scanned is surroundings, pausing as he noticed a puff of white behind a pile of stones. Raising a thin eyebrow, he cautiously padded towards it, worried that it may, indeed, be Bakura. And, with his previous rage forgotten, and the adrenaline of his disgust gone… he doubted he'd be able to do much of anything.

Another choking sob sounded from behind the pile as Ryou creeped his way around it.

"A kid!" He exclaimed loudly, caution thrown to the wind in his surprise.

The child gave a strangled scream, an incredibly carnal sound that seemed to be torn from his very soul, before scrambling to his feet and taking off.

"W-wait!" Ryou cried, reaching his hand in the direction of the child, as though that simple action would stop him.

Muttering bitterly about children not listening to their elders, Ryou climbed to his feet and began to run after the child. It was by no means an easy task, as Ryou was obviously not used to running in sand, and lost his footing more than once. However, after a time, even the terrified boy grew tired, and sought a place to hide in a nearby overturned pot.

'_A pot?'_ Ryou couldn't help but smile at the child's naivety, '_Must've been used for a festival or something… but still, that's as bad as hiding in the dryer or something.'_

Walking slowly around the back of the massive black thing, Ryou peered inside, and stopped.

_Bones._

_Blood._

And the tiny little boy – Ryou saw clearly now that he was, indeed, a boy, - curled tightly inside it all.

Swallowing back some bile – grimacing as it burned its way back down his throat – Ryou reached out tentatively to the boy. "You can come out. I won't hurt you." He offered a weak smile.

"No!" The boy screamed, scooting further into the blackness, "You're going to kill me! Like everyone else!" His voice was hoarse, and his desperately buried his face in his arms, cradling his head on his knees.

Ryou made a small noise of disagreement, shaking his head gently, hand still outstretched, "No, I won't. I'm a friend, Bakura."

He saw the boy stiffen. Had he guessed right…?

The boy looked up, and Ryou noted that one entire side was covered in blood, with his eye completely crusted over. He blinked his one good eye, surprised and still looking like a deer in headlights, before Ryou noticed in horror as the child's powder blue eyes narrowed hatefully.

"You're a demon." He hissed.

"Pardon?" It was Ryou's turn to blink in surprise.

"You've come to harvest my soul!" The boy's voice rose, "Everyone's gone, and now you've come to collect me!" He screamed, scrambling back against the bones, eyes widening again, before he seemed to calm, small fists grasping some sort of lower arm-bone.

"I promise, I'm not a demon. Why don't you come out?" Ryou offered gently.

"They won't let you." The boy said lowly.

Ryou blinked again.

"Everyone… they're gone. The pharaoh took them… he betrayed them… was supposed to protect the people… so…" He raised his eyes to Ryou's, "They won't let me go. Not yet. Not until I kill him. Not until I take… what's ours." He raised his other hand, grazing it lightly on the side of the pot. Ryou watched, grossly fascinated as tiny gold flakes fell gently from the black material beneath, shimmering even in the darkness.

"And even a demon like you can't stop me!" The boy continued, his voicerising into a carnal scream as he leapt suddenly at the surprised teen, bone poised to stab.

Ryou let out a surprised yell, falling backwards from where he'd been crouched, arms flying out to protect him.

_Pause._

That's the only way he could think of to describe it. It was as though someone had paused the entire scene, even down to the slight blur in the air.

Breathing heavily, Ryou stared wide-eyed at the small, white haired boy poised to kill him, frozen above him.

"HI-KA-RI!" A voice snarled.

The fist punched through the image of the boy, grasping the teen by his collar, and the rest of the scene fell away.

"You little…" Bakura was almost frothing, his crimson eyes narrowed murderously. "How DARE you?" He sputtered; enraged beyond any point Ryou had ever seen him. "I should KILL you!" He screamed, shaking the teen for emphasis, before calming and glaring at the younger boy, "But I'll have to settle for beating you within an inch of your life. _Repeatedly._" He growled, tossing Ryou easily to the floor.

Padding his pockets impatiently, Bakura searched for his knife, furious beyond any sort of coherent thought.

"Ba… Bakura…" Ryou whispered from where he lay on the floor.

"Don't bother begging for forgiveness, you little shit." Bakura snarled, finding his knife, turning to face the younger one triumphantly.

"I'm… I'm so _sorry!"_ Ryou sobbed, latching himself onto the spirits waist.

"What!" Bakura exclaimed, nearly losing his balance at the unexpected weight.

"I always thought such horrible things about you! But… It's not your fault!" Ryou cried, burying his face into the others chest, his tears wetting the shirt, "It's not your fault…" He repeated, softer this time, almost to himself.

Bakura was quiet.

"I understand a little better now… why you do the things you do… it's not your fault…" He sniffled, still attached to Bakura.

"Silly landlord." Bakura sniffed, awkwardly placing a hand on the back of the Ryou's head, "No one ever asked for your understanding."

Ryou looked questioningly at the other, seeing that, though no one had ever asked, Bakura had, somewhere, wanted it… just a little. He'd wanted to stop being the 'Antagonist', and start being… 'Misunderstood'? Ryou wasn't sure.

"But you still had no right to rifle through my memories." He leaned his face a little closer to Ryou's, "I'll still have to punish you."

But Ryou couldn't help but note, somewhere in the back of his mind, that that was the first amount of warmth he'd ever received from the King of Thieves.

-----

End

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Closing Notes: Ah, implications. X3

This fic's been on the back burner for quite a bit, I'm glad it's done. I remember when I was writing it, I was like "Gah! Symbolism! Damn you, English 20!"

Yeah. I've started picking out symbolism in my own fics now. It's all English 20's fault. Can you find it? The symbolism? I wonder…

Oh! And I know I've taken a bit of artistic liscence with this one. Like with the bones and stuff. Don't whine at me, he needed SOME sort of weapon. (Grins)

Anyways, this may be a one-shot, but review! Just because I'll never work on it again doesn't mean I don't like reviews!


End file.
